Hierophany

There was a fox threatening the life of another little critter that J.O. Haley had come to have affection for.  He called me into a room to point it out.  The fox was scary.  I thought about how to get at it but I don't think either of us ended up doing anything.


[03.31.2003]

My intramural (IM) team got thrown out of a game and then the whole league.  I had been arguing with the refs but I didn't think that that could have been the reason our team had gotten tossed.

So I looked into it.  Our team name was "The Jesus Freaks".  I alleged discrimination and said we'd bring a lawsuit.  There was one fella in the IM office that worked with me to get to the bottom of it.

I alleged that it was another fella in the office that had worked to get us tossed.  The guy (A) who had helped us didn't believe me at first but I came up with evidence—the document our enemy (B) had used to get us tossed.

It said something about "free love" and a white substance called carborundum.

I went to the office and was yelling at the top of my lungs saying guy B had discriminated against us.  Professor Wagner from Torts was in the office.  I wondered how she'd react to seeing me yell at the top of my lungs.  I wanted to fight the guy.

We met at one point and I bit his nose, like The Penguin.  I stuck my finger in his face and then he put his nostril on it, forcing my finger way up in it.  Then he moved his head around in a circle.

I could feel his nose cartilage.



[03/29/2013]

I was walking down a big hill, first with Brian Ebel, then with Dad.

We ordered burgers halfway down the hill but got to the bottom quicker than we thought and said, "Screw 'em."  Meaning the half-way down burgers.  So we ordered some more burgers at the bottom.  One was a burger bagel and the other one was a chicken burger.  This was at some kind of Depot Diner.

We saw someone riding a big red shiny bike up the hill and couldn't believe how well he was moving.

Later, Mary Lou Quante [who lives above me] was in my dream.  She seduced me.  We were lying down when a couple of her young friends ascended the stairs and came into the room.

This was too much.

I got up to leave.  I accidentally put on MLQ's jeans—and they were too big in the waist for me, and too long!

Then I went out to the parking lot, which was the parking lot of a drugstore, Gasen's.  But my car was gone.  And the girls were out there taunting me—they had stolen it.

I thought about calling B and having her pick me up.  I felt really bad and I was contemplating an alibi.

Then, I shuddered—shaking myself awake.

[Mary Lou Quante is like 50 years old.]



[03.28.2003]

wackyiraqi.com

Fighting in Europe,
where was I traveling?

Then with a black hooker who
had to leave quickly.

*

On the Europe fighting.  It seems I was in Europe, maybe
eastern Europe.  And there were bombs going off,
lighting up the night sky.

On the hooker.  A more sordid thread.  Aside from the
black gal there was another Brookish gal (but
with shorter hair) with whom I was talking, talking
about some sort of tryst.  But she said I'd like to
just get naked, get under the covers, and fuck.  But I
don't think we did.



[03.27.2008]

I told my dad, "Fuck  You, DAD."

His eyes were wild with surprise and

hurt and anger.  Clearly he loved

me.

    But he threw me out of the car,

though all I was wrapped in

  was a damp towel.

     My brother offered to make

the walk back with me,

     a good three miles.



[03.26.2005]

Me & B camping out

Senate Subcommittees    all crowded


I didn't like it we moved.


Crawling onto 3rd floor could barely      fit



painting of bunnies             frisbee burning

Phil there          But this was closest



my house.   Sister.    Brother.



[03.25.2008]

OK, this dream begins in a massive skyscraper where I'm working.  The building has a mall in the lower floors.  I'm on lunch brak, roughly.  I've got grass in my pocket.

As I'm in the store, someone gets killed.  The killer is on the loose.  I am worried I'll be searched and arrested for carrying grass.  I get on an elevator.  It's moving slowly.  I, or someone, make a crack about Tom DeLay only to realize he is on the elevator.

As I recall, once I get off of the elevator I am back at Thom's eco-village, Dancing Rabbit.  It has changed.  It's been built up.  I proceed to get very drunk or perhaps I am drugged.  First though was a bit a kayaking.  Justin Gdula is in a kayak, much to my surprise.  But we don't really talk.

Anyway, I get all messed up.  I get naked.  Thom's people are now carrying me, maybe to get me sent home.  As I'm being carried (by one girl?) I come to, and I'm suddenly very lucid.  I still act like I'm passed out, though.  I want to listed to what they're saying and see what all is around.

There's now a full-fledged Steak 'n Shake in the town/village and I wonder how it suddenly rose up and why Thom didn't tell me about it before.

I am leaving or maybe Justin is.  I say, "I hardly got to talk to you."  He says, "We talked whilst kayaking."  And I say, "Not really."


[03.22.2008]

"

Going to bed.    Sweet Dreams.


Dream about art.

"


[03.21.2002]

I had an odd dream about my parents.  They were getting enormous checks from the power company.  One was for $445,000.  I tried asking Mom about it.

When they were gone, but with my brother around, I grabbed their checkbook to look at its history, balance, etc.  I was on edge as it was but then (it was dark) someone was knocking on a seldom used back door.  Who the hell was it?

I grabbed a weapon (a broom?  a bat?) and went to see it was Mom, who seemed to sense what I'd been doing, and who had in either hand these metal, seasonal figurines of angels with trumpets blaring (a gift from Aunt Suzan).  She carried them as a winning actor carries an Oscar off of the stage.

Then, same thread but different act, upstairs in the den is a doctor who has made a house call to examine me.  It was something about my sexual organ—frightful!  But it was quite dim in the den and we were all trying all of the lamps to get a better light.


[03.20.2005]

I was babysitting across the street at Tom and Terese's.  I was changing the young boy's diaper (age 1 or 2) and I discovered that his scrotum had fallen off.

Yet, strangely, he seemed to have another one in the usual place.  So I have this detached scrotum and I don't know what to do.  I am afraid I'll be blamed from causing it to have fallen off.

I end up telling Terese (who was wearing on top just a pink sports bra) that one of the boy's scrota had fallen off.  And she says, "Yeah, no big deal, that happens."  She makes reference to some disorder the kid has that causes his scrotum to detach.

So I'm getting ready to leave and I notice that in the mail Terese has gotten a letter from my good old friend-cum-nemesis Eric Peters.  I am dying to know what it says.  No doubt it pertains to me.

I am at first thinking he has written some scurrilous piece of tripe warning Terese that I'm not good with kids, etc.  But I hold the letter up against the light and it seems he is being rather complimentary in tone.  But still, why would he write my neighbor except to screw with my head?

                                                                    *

Second thread.

I am out of town.  Strangeness all around.  My car is in the shop.  I need it fixed so that I can move on along to wherever it is I'm going.  I go into the shop and they're telling me that can fix it only, but only to the extent it'll get me to Oklahoma.  As I look back, it seems I was headed to Texas.

I realize I do not trust these people and that I am being kept in this place for some reason.  So I go back to this huge awesome room or house I'm renting and get together my essentials.  I'm gonna just take the car and get out of there as fast as possible.


[03.19.2008]



the cbw responds

Me, my mom, and my dad going somewhere to buy cocaine.  Why?  I have no idea.  Somehow this was connected to my previous dream with the odd transportation/train tubes over water (Steven's death).

Anyway, we plan to buy this cocaine from some drug dealer from U City who was growing tomato plants in front of his house.  The tomatoes on them didn't look so good and I had second thoughts.  I said that we should just let it go and Dad got mad about this.

I thought we'd get caught.  "The guy's growing tomato plants in his front yard for chrissake!"  I said.

My logic in the dream was that he was also probably growing other things and he was probably under surveillance by cops.  But I was also afraid of my dad actually going into the house of the drug dealer; and I was thinking of the awkwardness if I'd have gone in with him.

                                                                                  *

Yeah so in a second thread I'm in an old bedroom and I'm peeping out across the lake at the S household....  So I was looking through blinds with binoculars.  It seems I was alone in my house so there wasn't any worry there as far as who could walk into my room.  But there were two spooky things:

First, two of the S family somehow knew that I was looking at them.  The first time I looked over I saw J-A like standing at a washer and she was hugely pregnant (which certainly hasn't been the case for about 30 years).  Again I looked and T and J-A were like performing this little sex show for me, like, "Hi J!"

Second, I wondered how in the hell they could see me.  It seemed that there were lamps on in my room and I didn't know how that could be.  I turned them off but had problems either turning them down all the way or getting them to stay off.


                                                                                  *

Christian Slater on
interview show calling
Winona Ryder a "wedge"


[03.17.2005]

I won a hatchet by getting out of

a store with a certain amount of Wheat Thins.



[03.16.2008]

This dream involved a weird mixture of helping Ray and Em move (into a new house) and a Barack Obama campaign rally.  Ray perhaps spoke to the audience at the rally.

I was more concerned with helping them get their stuff moved.  The rally was outside the house I think.  I had a mattress I wanted to unload on them but I was hesitant to bring it up.  This weighed on me throughout the dream.

It was an uncomfortable dream.  Joseph Portera was somehow involved.  Was he Obama?

I waited all day to write this down.



[03.15.2008]

Yeah, in the dream I had before waking, I was in the midst of a night of partying—Ray and Phil included.  Somehow we were out on a balcony, sandwiched between two closely positioned buildings.

Attached to the opposite building, a few feet down, was a different kind of balcony: a mattress (twin size) sitting on a platform that was securely attached to a wall.  You could easily jump from the walk-out balcony down to the slightly lower mattress/platform.

A few of us did, including me.  I don't know what we were thinking.  An old friend/douche from early grade school was also present.  I don't specifically recall Ray or Phil being on either balcony, though.  Somehow they dropped out of the dream at this point.

So maybe we had a couple beers out on the mattress/faux-balcony.  Then it was time to get back to the real balcony.  The gap between the two balconies was probably three feet.  You had to jump a bit, or at least let your outstretched arms grab onto it a rung of the other balcony as you teetered toward it.  Two guys successfully get back over.  Then this guy Tim tried.

It was Tim Robbins, as a younger man.  He initially didn't not make it, but he was sort of in limbo hanging off of the side.

I was scared.  I looked down once, then no more.  We were at least 30 stories up.  I knew I needed to have some strength—pull-up strength—to get back; this kind of strength has never been my strong suit but I recall thinking about how I've been lifting some lately.  And besides, what other choice did I have?

What I did was lean over, get a good grip on an iron bar, pull up one foot to the concrete platform and then push up off of that foot.  I swing myself slowly over the short fend circumscribing the balcony and let myself slowly down on my back to a round of applause.  I felt really good—accomplished and relieved.

Tim was still out there but oddly no one offered him any kind of hand or help.  We all just went inside.

Tim fell.  We heard him yelling as he fell.  Whoever's apartment/condo it was said something like, "Don't worry, Tim!  We'll get the doorman!"  This made no sense.

Now Ray and Phil are back in the dream.  We walk out of the condo into the foyer/elevator area.  It's a really nice condo so they've got someone sitting as a concierge at a type of reception desk out there.  She makes some remark about us having a good day.  She has no idea about the tragedy that just unfolded.  We sort of mumbled, "Not that great of a day...."

I said, "It's been up and down."

There were a bunch of little liquor/liqueur bottles on her desk, I guess for sale.  One was, "Carmona", who incidentally is a pitcher for the Indians.

                                                                               *

Another thread.  

I happened across (in a boat) a crusty old bottle of what looked like ketamine.  I looked at it—I pulled it out of a cinder block—it was a prescription of liquid Zoloft for Jerry Seinfeld.  It was caked at the top but still liquid underneath (like paint left open).

For some reason I believed you could use it like ketamine (inject or cook/snort) and get the same effect. So I pocketed it.


                                                                               *

While asleep on the couch, I dreamt I went to an eatery/snack stand, one I had passed before but never really looked closely at.  B and I went in to get Dippin' Dots.

The guy working the counter was Billy Burroughs, of whose chaotic demise I read about earlier today.  It was taking forever to get the Dippin' Dots — they were making them on-site.  But they seemed really melted, and it was a process to freeze them.

Outside were a bunch of picnic benches, reminiscent of a boardwalk atmosphere but not near the ocean.  Homeless people congregated there.  At one point, I thought about making a movie about this group—they were close to one another, and didn't strike me as homeless right away.

But B was having a rough time.  I found her with her knees clutched to her chest, dirty, at the bottom of a big flowerpot.  I had the Dippin' Dots with lots of chocolate syrup, banana split—and we were getting out of there.


[03.10.2005]

I had a plan to make a huge garden, which was going to serve as a main food source for several people.  The plan was very optimistic.  Ray was involved.

I was making the argument that we could do it, pointing to a strange eggplant that had already grown without much effort on our parts. 

But the garden plot was sort of in a shady wood.  At one point the sun went in, or did someone turn off a light? — Either way, there wasn't much sun back there.

Some girl was down on her luck, homeless.  I said we could take her in and the garden would give us plenty of food.



[03.09.2008]

I was in the back of a taxi
out in the country with
two gals and an anteater.

The anteater was a he but
now was a she.  It had a
skirt and I caught sight of
its bush.  I scratched behind

its ears.  "It's real good with that,"
one of the girls said.  She was

Courtney, cousin from Mass.
The other gal, Morgan, sent
me a note, a valentine.  It said,
"I love you, Morgan."

The taxi was random so I
don't know how she knew how
to prepare a valentine with my
name on it.

We had been in a different taxi.  With
Justin.  With my dad in a seat
backwards, like in station
wagons of old.


[03.08.2005]

Midget graffiti artist
dressed like a bird



[03.07.2007]

Tigers v. Marlins but Dontrelle pitching for FLA gives up three doubles in the first. 

Tigers don't score, Granderson out stealing, tagged by Delmon Young in a Reds uni streaking in from center field.


Also, Jill Christensen, old neighbor, has me over.  Date.



Also, go to bar and shoot pool with the bartender.  He asks what channel I watch post-primary.  Says something about being happy for Bush manor...

Some gal diggin through my fries and laying all across the bar in front of me.  Her socks were on the bar, too.  Gross.


Also, a weird summer camp/school where we went to look for a guy in the forest, who'd went feral.  I saw him way up in the treetops, jumping from one tree to another like a monkey.  A few of our guys went up and got him.


And, driving with someone who drives the car into the ocean, a bay somewhere in Maine or Canada.  I grabbed my bag, wondering if my digital camera would still work.  It had life but its screen said that it had "water exposure".

The car just sank.



[03.06.2008]

Killed someone in self-defense.  I wasn't sure what to do about it because that would bring out the cops and I have these plants...

What I did was, I was driving with this guy; he was driving me; holding me against my will.  I reached over and somehow pulled out his jugular vein or carotid artery.

Blood all over the place. I steered the car off the side of the road.  The blood tasted like tomato sauce; I tasted a bit as I walked up the road.

The car was a high rider, like a Bigfoot almost.  The guy was Coby from the drug study I did awhile ago.


Separate but related thread.  Short movies, grade school shit, my movie longer that others, people walked out of the screening because they didn't want to sit through it.  I decided I would cut out the first part.


Later in the dream, I was inside the Belleville house.  Looking out the window at a car in the driveway.  Saw Nancy Pelosi undressing, saw her tits.  Then Diane Keaton was bending over the seats, legs in back, torso in the front, she was bending over backwards.  Keaton's tits were huge and falling all over the place.  I started to whack off in the dream, woke up hard.  Then lots of cars were using our driveway for parking, what with the high school nearby.


[03.05.2007]

Many times woken up during dream into real world of bed and blankets but also went back to dreaming.  Brookie was in this dream.  Said April was going to be a "fuckfest".


Here are randoms:

Man in Cadillac, $5 in the backseat, dating or just friends with an African American woman who one day I noticed was pregnant,

See, I can't 100% distinguish between B and this Af Am woman who reminded me of Tamyra Walker from high school.


Yet, I was faced with a decision of who I was going to live with after college.  Af Am woman, we had been casually dating for awhile and then one day I see her across the street and she is definitely pregnant.  She said that her stepfather did it to her, a month ago.

Time doesn't add up of course.

After school ends, she is going to Nevada to live.  I give her the impression I might come with her because I feel sorry for her.  In my dream I tell this story to my guy friends, but I don't include the detail that it was her stepfather.


I am supposed to be going somewhere in a car, two cars—with friends: Thom K, Ray, Ben W, Ryan D, ?  We are down on Hi Pointe Place deciding who will go in what car and I have to go to the bathroom and walk back up to my apartment.

As I'm walking back up to it I hear loud music, Pink Floyd's "Division Bell," and it's coming from my apartment, and the door to my apartment is open.


When I go in Brook is in there lying down, acting asleep, and I "wake her up".  She laughs and I decide I don't want to go anywhere.  But I have to tell the guys downstairs.


I wake up and still feel responsibility to tell them I won't be coming.  How do I tell them now?

I believe this was the latter part of my dream.  There was much more.  More with B and more in some building that I have a feeling I don't want to remember.


[03.04.2002]

I was captured and imprisoned by government.

At first I wasn't allowed to make any contact with the outside world.  I really missed B.  I figured she was pregnant and had maybe already borne my son.  I sold my Swatch for the opportunity to use the phone.

I was arrested because I was part of some class at school and when I noticed—what were they?—strange objects in the air—like blenders or something—I ran.

This was at Skinker and Forsyth.

Then a NASA missile hit the top of the van my group was in.  I ran but the government men surrounded me.  This was at Skinker and Wydown, one block away.

In prison, I escaped one day, running.  That's how the dream ended.  That seems like it was in Italy.  That I see in third person.

The guy—warden—dictator—was going to give me $1 for my Swatch.  I asked for $5 and got it.  But being imprisoned with no contact with the outside world—awful.


[03.01.2003]